


Dreaming of the Night

by R_Black



Category: Justice League: Gods and Monsters (2015)
Genre: Belly Dancing, M/M, aha this wasn't supposed to be anything but LOOK WHAT HAPPENED FOOLS, and Hernan is loving it, honestly there's not much there except a boner, it's mature just to be safe, other than that Kirk is basically being a cocktease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 15:47:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14980400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_Black/pseuds/R_Black
Summary: Hernan is hit with a hallucinogenic toxin that gives him an...interesting dream.





	Dreaming of the Night

It was some sort of trick. It had to be.

Hernan had been rushing into battle with Kirk and Bekka, facing off against what seemed like an endless army. The thrill of it had brought a lot of stress off of his shoulders, if only for a few precious minutes.

Then, something happened.

Someone had sprayed some sort of mist into his face. He had no idea where it had come from and could not react fast enough to avoid it. In the corner of his eye, even with the mist causing him to tear up, he saw Bekka use her Boom-tube to get out of the way of another cloud. Kirk got hit almost immediately and quickly collapsed. Hernan’s last thoughts before he, too, fell were,  _Not Kirk!_

And then his eyes opened, and he was standing in the doorway to some exotic nightclub.

It was like he was in some strange Arabic land. The air was filled with smoke and incense, luxurious carpets lined the floor, and silhouetted people sat on beautiful cushions and couches. The shadows moved about sporadically, almost as if Hernan was the one going too fast for the world.

He hadn’t even realized he’d moved away from the door until he was already seated on a cushion in front of a low stage. In the back of his mind, he remembered doing things like this. Back before he’d taken the Superman title, before he’d decided to do something about the shithole half of the world, before…before his mother had passed.

A drink was in his hand and down his throat before he could blink.

Memories of the battle were fading. He knew he should be concerned about that, but the longer he thought about it the less he could concentrate.

The stage lit up. Music—Arabic or Western Indian, Hernan couldn’t tell in his addled state—softly began to play. A drumbeat announced the arrival of the entertainment. The shades around Hernan whistled and howled as a single shape appeared; a silhouette of a person behind the curtain.

The music turned provocative. The curtain opened to reveal…

“K-Kirk?” Hernan sputtered.

There was no mistaking that unique shade of ashen-gray skin that Kirk alone possessed, not to mention the red eyes that glittered like two rubies. However, Hernan had never before seen so… _much_  of that skin! Clothed in nothing but a fitted, sleeveless black top, a red satin belt, and a double-slitted skirt that displayed  _much_  of Kirk’s legs, there was little left to Hernan’s imagination. It took him three seconds to realize Kirk was in a belly dancer’s outfit, a  _bedlah_  befitting of his shape.

Their eyes met briefly, and Hernan damn near melted. He’d seen Kirk’s eyes before, seen them hunger and lust for blood, but not like this. The hunger was sharper, the lust completely different.

Kirk began to dance.

Hernan had seen many belly dancers. He’d screwed a few, too, if he was being honest. All of them had been female, though. And none were quite as mesmerizing as Kirk.

Immediately Hernan’s gaze was drawn to Kirk’s stomach, which was lined with abs that would make an Olympic athelete jealous. The way he moved to the music, how his hips dipped and swayed like water, causing his stomach to ripple like waves…it was already enough to make Hernan want more.

Then he noticed the belt. It wasn’t just a red belt, it was a bejeweled ruby sash with a bat design right in the center, under Kirk’s navel. The more Kirk moved, the more the bat seemed to flap its wings and fly. It was as if the bat flew right up to Hernan’s face and kissed his nose before circling back to rest under Kirk’s stomach.

The more Hernan watched, the more details he saw, and the more entranced he became. The silvery bangles that adorned his arms, the pearly chains that dangled under his top and belt, the ruby orbs that wrapped around his neck and hair like frozen blood droplets…it was all so surreal, and heat-inducing.

Suddenly, a very transparent blue scarf seemed to materialize from Kirk’s hands. It flowed around him as if carried by invisible air currents, and where he held the ends seemed to reach out for the sky, almost like small wings.

It was as if Hernan’s whole vision had been taken up by that scarf, with only Kirk in the middle to break up the growing indigo haze. No longer was Hernan in some seedy club surrounded by unfamiliar shades; he was face-to-face with a god that danced with grace matched by none.

The scarf had seemed to fuse not only with the surroundings, but with Kirk’s arms. They had become like wings, and enveloped Hernan gently. Yet, he still danced. The red bat flew to him again, kissing him more. The lure of Kirk’s hips, belly, and chest, were almost too much for Hernan to bear. Those eyes—those damned eyes that seemed to glow like two blood moons watched Hernan back, only breaking contact to blink.

And suddenly Kirk was nose-to-nose with Hernan, his lips quirking up in a hungry smile. Hernan returned the smile with his own devilish smirk, knowing full well what Kirk wanted. He craned his neck, presenting it.

He felt teeth graze the skin before—

“Hernan!”

A slap to the face. Multiple slaps, actually. Hernan opened his eyes, blinking away dust and grit. Bekka was leaning over him, covered in grime. He rarely saw confusion and worry when she looked at him, but both emotions were very present on her face at that moment.

Hernan sat up, his head swimming as he fought to remember where the hell he was. Oh, that was an uncomfortable feeling in his pants.

“Do I really want to know why you have a boner right now?” Bekka asked dryly. She was looking everywhere  _but_  down, and Hernan had to smirk at her shyness.

“If I’m being honest, I don’t think even  _I_  know why I have one,” he admitted. “What happened?”

“You and Kirk got hit with some hallucinogenic powder. I managed to take care of the leaders, but the scientist who developed the toxin got away.” She looked to her right. “Kirk’s still out cold.”

Hernan looked at Kirk, sprawled out on the ground, and suddenly his fever dream came back. The club, the dancing, the  _teasing_. Hernan shifted uncomfortably, trying to stop the blood from rushing further south and becoming too obvious. It didn’t work.

“Think the police can handle the clean-up?” he asked, standing up and dusting himself off. He’d have to grin and bear it until he was able to go home and take a cold shower. Or just dive into the Arctic Ocean. Whichever needed to come first.

“They’ll probably not be happy about it, but when are they ever happy cleaning up after us?”

“Good point.” He looked over at the unconscious Batman. “You, uh…I don’t suppose you wouldn’t mind taking him back to the tower?”

Bekka raised an eyebrow. Then, she smirked. “Are you suddenly twelve years old? It’s not my fault you had a wet dream about Kirk.”

“I never said that.”

“So I’m assuming you mumbling ‘Kirk, Kirk, sing for me, Kirk’ was you messing with me?”

“He wasn’t singing, he was dancing!”

Bekka laughed, then picked up Kirk with one hand. She hauled him over her shoulders as if he weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. “Go soak your boner in the Atlantic. I won’t tell Bat-Boy he got to be a dancer in your dreams.”

“I sense an ‘if’,” Hernan grumbled.

“You  _are_  perceptive. I won’t tell Kirk  _if_ …you do this week’s laundry for me. I’ve got a meet-up with some girlfriends on Saturday and I don’t want to miss it washing your Super Undies. Deal?”

Hernan smirked. “Deal.”

They flew off in different directions after that. Bekka to wake Kirk up back at the Tower, and Hernan to be alone to…think more…about his red-eyed friend.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be just a picture of Kirk belly dancing, but then my brain was like "No, no, there needs to be more." So...this happened. Does this mean Kirk was also having a wet dream? Who knows! I'll leave that up to your imaginations!


End file.
